


On Top of Spaghetti

by everAcclimating



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cooking, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Sburb/Sgrub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-17
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-03 19:33:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everAcclimating/pseuds/everAcclimating
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave and John are the best at being adults.</p>
<p>And no one is surprised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Top of Spaghetti

"You're going to get food poisoning. And then I'm going to have to take care of you because you were an idiot and ate old chow mein."

"Well, Dr. Egbert, I have an iron stomach and there's nothing that can take me down. It's not even that old."

"When was the last time we ordered it?"

"... A week and a half ago."

"Put. The plastic fork. Down."

"You gonna make me something else to eat?"

"Maybe I will."

\--

In retrospect, that bravado could have very well been the end of him.

After everything (fixing things, re-fixing them, starting life over again, everything everything they had all done), blowing up their kitchen trying to make something edible for dinner would have taken the cake so hard that he was willing to think the baked goods pun involved.

They haven't been living together very long - a couple of months in a shitty little apartment with two bedrooms even though one of them is just filled with _stuff_ and they share the one that's not buried. They haven't really tried cooking, yet, and sometimes John thinks that Dave looks kind of apprehensive at the _idea_ of it.

John made cinnamon toast a couple of mornings, and he'd felt kind of accomplished. He's pretty sure he can follow directions though, and pasta can't be _that_ hard, can it?

Of course it can, he's never really had to cook before.

But it's just spaghetti and a jar of sauce, and for some reason they have an apron so he swans around the kitchen in it, pretending that he looks more like he knows what he's doing than he feels, and Dave's leaning through the divider to their tiny 'dining nook' (try to keep a straight face, because they hadn't been able to) with his arms crossed and resting on the counter.

He heats the sauce in a frying pan because they only have one pot (why hadn't they gotten more, why), and he nearly burns himself trying to drain the pasta without a colander because they'd never thought they'd needed one. (They'd then proceeded to buy pasta the one time they braved grocery shopping.)

He finds frozen meatballs (score) at the last second and he heats them in the microwave before putting them in the sauce because everything else is ready.

A few minutes later and they're sitting on the couch eating - Dave has a little kid's Care Bears plate piled high, and John's is in one of their cereal bowls.

They manage a little talking between bites, but it's mostly 'it's good,' 'thanks,' 'you're my new personal chef,' and 'hand me the remote.'

But honestly it tastes a little like sweet victory, and John hides a grin behind the edge of his bowl.


End file.
